


Something for the Weekend

by thealphagate_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-29
Updated: 2006-03-29
Packaged: 2019-02-02 01:47:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12717201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealphagate_archivist/pseuds/thealphagate_archivist
Summary: Doors and eyes are opened.





	Something for the Weekend

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the archivists: this story was originally archived at [The Alpha Gate](https://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Alpha_Gate), a Stargate SG-1 archive, which began migration to the AO3 in 2017 when its hosting software, eFiction, was no longer receiving support. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are this creator and it hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Alpha Gate collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/thealphagate).

I open the door and step through, my hand going to the light switch as I do so. It doesn't quite make it, as I hear a soft sound, a gasp from among the shelves. I know I should call out and say something, even 'hello?', but I don't. 

I've heard that sound before. On peaceful, 'boring' missions when a body's needs seduce good sense into letting it do what it will. 

Common sense and good manners tell me that I should turn 180 and leave him in peace. My cock tells me otherwise. 

No prizes for guessing who wins that argument. 

I move deeper into the room, my training means that I don't make a sound. He's trying not to, but it's getting more difficult with each breath for him. 

He's standing there, at the back of the room, facing the wall. His BDUs are pooling around his knees and his t-shirt is bunched up around his armpits. Leaving a wide expanse of skin bare to anyone with eyes to see. 

I've never said it to his face but... he is beautiful. Long legs, strong back, and that ass. That pert, tight ass that I jerk off over incessantly every night after I've had to follow it around at work that day. 

One arm is bent at the elbow, and though I can't see anymore detail, I'm thinking that he's stroking his nipples. His other arm is turned towards his body, resting by his hip, moving in an unmistakeable rhythm.

I should really get out of here, find another closet and make an urgent appointment with my cock and my own spit covered hand. But I can't, I want to see more. 

So I move closer, greedily noting details.

The way his shoulders flex with the movement of his arms, how his ass clenches in time to the rhythm of his stroking. 

I indulge in a moment of fantasy at that sight. He's on his back; hot lover, cool sheets, warmed lubricant and a dildo poised at his hole. Sometimes I suck him off, sometimes I just watch. 

Not that it would ever happen. He would never see me as anything more than his friend. I can see that he's getting ever closer now. His rhythm is gradually getting speeding up and those sexy whispers are getting louder. I pull down on my balls, we've got a meeting later and the last thing he needs to see is that I've changed pants colour because of an 'accident'. 

With a cry, he comes. With a start I realise that he called out my name. Well, I'll be... 

Time passes; he cleans himself up and makes ready to rejoin the rest of the world. 

"Hey," he says, as if nothing had happened. 

"Hey," I reply, trying to analyse this earth shattering piece of information. "Um, wanna come over to mine tonight?" I ask. It's Friday, but the last thing I have on my mind is hockey and beer. 

He turns, and smiles, at me and so help me, my heart skips a beat. "Sure," he replies. 

"Good," I reply. He makes to leave but I'm not letting him get away so easy. 

"Jack?" I say. He turns to me and I reach out to drop a kiss onto his lips. They open willingly under my own as my hands go to his shoulders. I could stand there for hours but breathing is important. 

When we part, he's looking dazed, which makes me insufferably pleased. "Goddamn, Daniel," he husks.

"Something for the weekend, Jack," I reply sweetly before pushing him out of my storeroom door.


End file.
